Unlikely Places
by August08
Summary: When a car crash leaves sixteen year old Morgan in a wheelchair, her life is brought to an abrupt halt. Believing no one will want to be around her, she becomes bitter and angry. But, when a strange figure shows up at her window, her walls begin to crack. And as he shows her that a wheelchair doesn't define who she is, Morgan finds her salvation in the most unlikeliest of people.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : I've been away from fanfiction too long, and yes while I still have stories from other fandoms to finish, I wanted to return to my roots and share another TMNT story that I've been working on for the last couple of months. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated.

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing associated with TMNT. I only own Morgan.

* * *

"Nice hustle, ladies," the coach yelled from the sidelines. "Watch your footwork, Morgan."

Morgan caught the soccer ball and took off down the field. Her teammates shouted and cheered as she weaved around the opposing team, heading straight for the goal. She saw one of her teammates open and she sent the ball sailing across the grass. The other girl caught the ball and slammed her foot against the hard plastic. The ball flew through the air, slamming against the net. The whistle sounded, ending the match. Morgan and her team roared as the whistle sealed their victory. The girls collided together, joining in a group hug.

The world slowly melted away, fading into thick, inky darkness that was pierced by red and blue flashing lights. Voices buzzed, noises hummed. Blood pounded in her ears. Morgan slowly cracked her eyes open. The world hung upside down. She was encased in a tomb of crushed steel. Her body was twisted, contorted.

 _What happened?_

There was the groaning of metal and then heavy rain poured in, instantly soaking her. The world began to fade to black again as firefighters fought to free her from her cocoon. The last thing she saw was the image of her two friends standing off in the distance, covered in blankets and watching the scene unfold.

* * *

Dull blue eyes stared at the opposite wall. Voices buzzed around her, but she didn't pay attention to what they were saying. It had been three days since the accident, and she still had no feeling in her legs. The doctor said there was a chance she would never walk again. She stopped listening after that. Her life was over at sixteen. She would never kick a soccer ball again, would never ride her bike, go for walks or run. She would be cursed to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her miserable life.

The more she thought about it, the more her blood began to boil.

 _It's Christie's fault for suggesting the car ride,_ Morgan fumed. _It was Shannon's fault for going too fast in the rain. I told her to slow down. I told her she was going to crash. But, did she listen? No! "I'm not going to crash," she said. "You watch too many movies." What do you have to say now, Shannon?!_

None of her friends had come to see her. Morgan mused that they were either too guilt ridden or just too stuck up to visit.

 _Don't want to be associated with a cripple,_ she silently grumbled, glaring down at her motionless legs.

"We'll have to modify the house," she heard her father say. "Make it more accessible."

Morgan's blood ignited, combusting violently into a raging inferno. Her insides screamed, yet she remained quiet on the outside. She cursed her so-called friends for being so stupid. Her eyes burned with scorching tears of anger and sadness.

 _Why did I get in that car?_ she asked herself. _Why did I listen to those two? I should have stayed home. I should have made an excuse not to go._ The tears began to flow. _Why did I get in that car?_

She closed her eyes and the flood gates opened up. She broke down, the tides of grief overwhelming her and pulling her down into the merciless depths. She felt strong arms fold around her as her parents pulled her close.

"It'll be okay, honey," her mother assured her.

"We'll figure this out," her father added.

Morgan continued to sob, her breaths coming out raspy and labored. She begged, pleaded for a miracle, that somehow her legs would get the message from her brain to work again. However, the facts kept creeping in. There was too much damage done to her spine. There was a very slim chance that she would walk again.

"No one's going to want to be around me, now," Morgan cried.

"If they can't accept you in your bad times as well as your good, then they're not true friends," her father told her.

"But who's going to want to be my friend? I can't do anything for myself anymore," Morgan said.

"That's not true, sweetie," her mother replied. "Just because you're in a wheelchair doesn't make you any less of a person or any less of a young woman. You're still you. And you'll figure out your own way of doing things again."

Morgan took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her father held her close and ruffled her hair.

"You're still our girl, kiddo. We'll help you in any way we can," he said. "Okay?"

Morgan sighed heavily and nodded. "Yeah. Okay," she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

"Dang it," Morgan grunted as her eyeliner pencil rolled underneath the dresser.

She wheeled her chair backwards, but the odd angle made it impossible to see the pencil. Morgan moaned impatiently.

"Mom," she called out.

A second later, her mother rushed into the room. "Yes, dear?" she asked.

Morgan pointed down at the foot of the dresser. "Can you get my eyeliner, please?"

Her mother stooped down, peeking underneath the dresser. Reaching in, she pulled out the pencil and handed it to her daughter.

"Thanks," Morgan mumbled, taking the pencil.

"Do you need any help getting ready?"

Morgan shook her head. "No, I'm good. Thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yes, mom. I'm fine."

Her mother nodded. "Okay. But if you need anything-"

"Mom, please. I said I'm good," Morgan snapped.

A hurt look passed over her mother's face, but it was quickly replaced by a smile. "Okay, honey," she said. "If you need anything, give a shout."

"Yeah," Morgan muttered as her mother left the room, closing the door behind her.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. It was her first day back to school after three weeks of being in the hospital. In those three weeks, only one person from her group of friends had bothered to visit. She hadn't seen Christie or Shannon, and the way she was feeling, she didn't want to. When she was ready, Morgan wheeled out of her room and out into the kitchen. She grabbed a quick bite of breakfast before following her father out to the van. Her father had traded in their old car for a wheelchair accessible minivan. Morgan didn't want to know how much it cost.

When her chair was securely fastened, her father climbed in behind the wheel. Morgan stared out the window as he drove. She watched as the neighbourhood kids rode their bikes on their way to school. Her heart hammered angrily in her chest. That was supposed to be her. Soon, they were pulling into the parking lot of her high school. Her father parked by the door and got out. Morgan could see the students stop and stare as her father opened the side door and unhooked the clasps from her chair. The whispers started as soon as the wheels touched the pavement. Her father bent down and gave her a hug and kiss.

"Have a great day, kiddo," he said.

"Yeah. I'll try," Morgan stated, feeling everyone's eyes on her.

She wheeled herself towards the front door, keeping her eyes forward, but that didn't stop her from hearing. When she reached the front door she stopped. Clenching her jaw in determination, Morgan tried in vain to open the door. When all attempts to get inside failed, Morgan let the door swing closed. She shot her gaze to a group of boys that were standing watching her.

"A little help would be nice," she snapped. "Don't just stand there gawking at me like I'm stupid. Help me out."

One of the boys hurried over and quickly opened the door for her.

"Thanks," Morgan muttered, wheeling herself inside.

She was grateful that her school was only one level. If it had stairs she would have been screwed. She tried to ignore the pitying glances and whispers as she wheeled through the halls. Morgan found her locker and opened it, looking up at the high shelf. She sighed.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Morgan sat at her desk doing her homework, or at least attempting to do her homework. Her thoughts kept wandering to the waking nightmare that was her first day back to school. People either avoided her like she had the plague, or they were annoyingly helpful, doing every little thing for her, as if she couldn't write her own notes.

"It's my legs that are shot, not my hands," she had snapped at one girl who had offered to write out her notes for her.

In hindsight, she knew her classmate was only trying to be helpful. But, Morgan had been so irritated that she had just snapped. She put her pencil down, rubbing her tired eyes. It had been a long day, and her eyes were burning out of her skull. She looked out her bedroom window and frowned. On a rooftop across the street, it looked like someone was on one of the houses. Morgan slowly flipped off her desk lamp.

As she watched, three more shadowy figures joined the first. Her confusion deepened as she watched the figures interact. One of them shoved another, almost making the person fall off the roof. The first figure gestured for them to keep silent before taking off over the rooftops.

 _I didn't know we had neighbourhood watch in Brooklyn. But, I guess they're everywhere. But, then again, wouldn't neighbourhood watch work from the streets and not the rooftops?_

As she watched, two of the others started after the first. However, the third stopped and looked towards her bedroom window. Morgan's heart skipped a few beats, eyes growing wide.

 _Are they really neighbourhood watch?_ she asked herself. _Or are they something else?_

The shadow turned towards something and ran off. Morgan released the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She jumped when a knock suddenly sounded on her bedroom door.

"Morgan? It's time for bed," her mother's voice carried through the door.

"Okay," Morgan called back.

She looked back out the window, but the shadows were gone. With her heart still pounding in her chest, Morgan started getting ready for bed. Her mother helped her get changed into her pajamas and to get into bed. Her mother kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, sweetie."

"Night, mom."

Morgan watched as her mother walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. With one final look out the window, Morgan settled in for the night. Her eyes drifted closed and she fell into a world of shadowy figures that ruled the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Morgan watched silently as her old soccer team went through a practice game. She was parked a fair distance away, not wanting them to see her. As she watched her friends play, Morgan felt her eyes begin to burn with hot tears. She didn't know why she kept watching the team. She was just torturing herself. Morgan wheeled away, heading back towards the school to wait for her father.

She parked by the door, propping her elbow on the armrest and leaning her chin on her palm. Her eyes moved towards a group of boys that were gathered around the bike racks. Her gaze fell on one boy in particular. His hazel brown hair was short and spiked. Even from where she sat, she could hear his thunderous laugh as one of his buddies told a joke. She found herself imagining the way his soulful green eyes lit up as he laughed.

Morgan sighed and smiled slightly. He was the boy after every girl's heart. The boy that was sure to be valedictorian. Michael Wyatt. Just thinking his name sent a warm shiver shooting down her spine. She had often pictured herself at prom dancing with him. Morgan sighed again as she glanced down at her legs.

 _I won't be doing much dancing in the near future,_ she thought bitterly. _I might as well not even go to prom._

Morgan's heart leapt into her throat when Michael looked her way, their eyes meeting briefly before the white minivan pulled up, blocking them from each other. Morgan's father got out and opened the side door. With her heart still pounding in her chest, Morgan wheeled on to the lift. Her father secured her chair and closed the door.

 _Don't even think about it,_ Morgan told herself. _There's no chance he would ever ask you to prom. Not with you being in a wheelchair._

The van pulled away and Morgan caught another glimpse of Michael as they drove off. Her heart fluttered again.

"How was school?" her father asked.

"Usual," Morgan replied.

"It'll get better."

"How? People treat me different. They either see me as diseased or completely helpless," Morgan said.

"They just don't know how to react."

"Well, I wish they would leave me along," Morgan grumbled. "I just want to get through these last two years and be done of it."

"Any plans for the upcoming Fall dance?" her father asked.

"What's the point? No one's going to ask me," Morgan said.

"What about that Wyatt boy you're always talking about?" her father questioned.

Morgan scoffed scornfully. "I'm the last person he'll want to be seen with."

Her father sighed. "Morgan, this isn't healthy. It's been two weeks and you still haven't made an effort to talk to your friends."

"My so-called friends have left me," Morgan hissed venomously.

"Then make new friends," her father suggested.

"It's a bit late for that, Dad," Morgan told him.

"It's never too late to make new friends, Morgan," her father answered. "You just have to give people a chance."

Morgan glowered out the window. "Why should I give people a chance when they don't give _me_ a chance?" she grumbled.

The rest of the drive was made in silence. As soon as they were home, Morgan wheeled inside and locked herself in her bedroom, diving into her homework. She didn't even bother emerging to eat. At one point her mother came in to bring her a sandwich, but she just pushed it to one side and left it. She was too angry to eat. After a while she ran out of homework to do, so she pulled a book from her bookshelf and started to read. As the room began to grow dark, she switched on her desk lamp, but even that started to hurt her eyes.

She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her eyes. Morgan lowered her hands and blinked. Cautiously, she turned off her lamp. The street beyond the window was only half lit by the street lamps. Just as before, across the street were those four shadowy figures. However, unlike the first time, they were partially illuminated. Morgan could somewhat pick out a bit more detail. They were short, blocky, as if they were professional bodybuilders. They each had something strapped to their backs, something that looked like Captain America's shield, only more oval shaped. As they moved, the street light caught off of a different colored mask around the figure's eyes. One was blue, one was purple, one was red and the last was orange.

"What in the world...?"

Orange suddenly tapped Red on the arm and took off with the others right behind him. Morgan felt her confusion deepening. She frowned.

"What did I just see?" she whispered to herself.

She jumped and gasped in shock when something fell down in front of her bedroom window. There was a rustling in the bushes. Morgan gingerly pushed herself up out of the chair slightly, trying to see over the sill. She fell back when something popped up, coming into full view. Morgan's eyes widened when she saw it. The shadow with the orange mask. But it wasn't a person, it was something else entirely.

Then, Orange met her gaze through the darkness. They stared at each other, eyes wide. Morgan's mouth slowly parted and Orange began to panic. It motioned for her to keep quiet, but the scream tore from her throat nonetheless. It must have heard her for it bolted into the shadows and disappeared. Morgan vaguely heard the door opening.

"Morgan, what's wrong?" her father asked, running into the room.

"There's something out there," Morgan said, pointing out the window.

"Some _thing_?" her father echoed.

"It wasn't human," Morgan replied, her voice quivering from fright.

"Was it an animal?" her father asked, going over to the window and looking around.

Morgan blinked a few times, body shaking and heart beating erratically in her chest.

"Do you think it might have been an animal?" her father asked again.

"I don't know what it was," Morgan answered. "It looked like an animal, but it also looked human."

Her father frowned. "I thought you said it _wasn't_ human?" he asked.

"It wasn't...strictly speaking," Morgan replied.

"I think you've overworked yourself, kiddo," her father told her.

"I'm not crazy," Morgan defended. "Something was out there."

"I'm not saying you are crazy, Morgan. But, sometimes our eyes can play tricks on us when we're tired," her father explained. "It was probably a racoon or something."

"It was no racoon," Morgan grunted.

Her father patted her on the shoulder. "I'll get your mother. You need rest."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Whatever it was, it's gone now," her father replied. "It's late, you need sleep."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Morgan pointed out.

"You should still get a good night's sleep," her father said, heading for the door.

Morgan watched as he left before glaring out the window. "I know I saw you," she whispered angrily. "And I will find out what you are. I can promise you that."

* * *

"You were seen?!"

Six sets of eyes glared down at him. Michelangelo tried to shrink into the couch, but his brothers held him in place. He didn't know whose glare was more intense. He thought for sure Raphael was trying to set him on fire. Donatello looked uncharacteristically violent, and Leonardo seemed like he wanted to throttle him. He knew his brothers had good reason for being so furious. He had broken one of the Ninja Commandments: Don't be seen.

He had messed up and was seen by that human girl. He had tried to keep her quiet, but what sensible teenage girl sees a five foot tall turtle and simply lets it go without freaking out? She had every right to scream. April had. More than once. But, April had become a close friend. This girl was just some random stranger looking out her bedroom window at the wrong time.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened if you hadn't gotten out of there in time?" Leonardo asked.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry," Michelangelo said.

"Sorry wouldn't have gotten you out of being shipped off to a government lab, Mikey," Donatello chastised.

"Ninjas operate in the shadows. Ninjas are supposed to be silent. Stealthy."

"I get it, Leo."

"No, Mikey. I don't think you do," Leonardo said. "You were _seen_."

"You think I don't know that?" Michelangelo asked. "I messed up. Majorly. But, I got out of there before anyone else showed up."

"You know why it's dangerous for us to be seen," Leonardo continued.

"Leo, you can lay off," Michelangelo told him, growing annoyed. "If it'll make you feel any better I won't go topside for a while. How about that?"

"That won't change the fact that someone saw you," Leonardo answered.

Michelangelo narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze to Raphael. "You got anything to say?" he asked.

Raphael crossed his arms, but simply shook his head. "Leo and Donnie pretty much said it all," he stated, making his brother sigh. "However, I will say this: You'd better hope that girl thinks she was just seeing things."

"Why's that?" Michelangelo asked, curious.

"We don't need another Abigail Finn hunting us down," Raphael finished.

"I highly doubt that," Michelangelo mumbled under his breath.

"We can't take any chances," Leonardo put in. "Our training runs in Brooklyn are cancelled until this blows over."

Raphael and Donatello growled. "And I was just getting the hang of it, too," Donatello grumbled.

"Thanks, Mikey," Raphael said. "Thanks a lot."

Michelangelo clenched his jaw as his brothers walked away. He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. He stared at the TV sets, thinking. The girl's face began to draw itself in his mind's eye. Even in the darkness he had seen the hardness in her eyes. The girl was troubled, deeply. Michelangelo shook his head, closing his eyes, banishing the thought.

 _You're in enough trouble as it is, Mikey,_ he told himself. _The last thing you should is go back._

The girl's troubled eyes began haunting him. He opened his eyes, a mission forming in his thoughts. He looked up towards the bedrooms and he swallowed thickly.

 _I'm so gonna lose my shell for this,_ he thought nervously.


	4. Chapter 4

Morgan wheeled into the cafeteria, her lunch bag in her lap. She carefully weaved through the throng of students, careful not to run into anyone. She didn't pay anyone any heed as she made her way over to her usual spot near the back by the window. However, a frightened, hushed voice made her stop and turn around. Her eyes fell on a group of cheerleaders, two in particular. Morgan wondered why she hadn't noticed them before now. After all, she only passed by the table every lunchtime.

"Well, look who it is," Morgan seethed when she finally recognized Shannon and Christie. "You two got a new look."

"Go away, Morgan," Shannon hissed, noticing a few students were looking their way.

"Why?" Morgan asked. "Do I remind you of something? Do I remind you of what a colossal failure you two are? Is that why you dyed your hair black? So that it would match the color of your souls?"

"That's enough, wheels," one of the cheerleaders cut in.

Morgan shot her burning, piercing glare at the girl. " _Wheels_?!" she screeched, drawing everyone's attention. "Who do you think you are, bitch? What right do you have to call me that? I could walk at one time, you ignorant sod! I was the captain of the damn soccer team! Or have you forgotten that? I was normal before these two," she said, jabbing an accusing finger at Shannon and Christie, "had the bright idea of going for a drive in the pouring rain. I told Shannon to slow down, but do you know what she did? She sped up! _Sped up_! Do you know who does that? People with a death sentence!"

By this time, every eye in the room was on Morgan and the petrified cheerleaders. Morgan didn't care. This was one thing she wasn't going to let slip by. She could take the ignoring and annoyingly helpful, but she was _not_ going to let these girls get away with insulting her.

"You were supposed to be my friends," Morgan continued. "But, when I needed you most, you bailed. What kind of coward does that? What makes you two any different? What makes you two so special that you got to keep your legs and I ended up stuck in this accursed chair? You want to know something? There's not a minute that goes by that I wish it was you two that ended up paralyzed. Let's see how cocky you are when you need a _chair_ to do the walking for you! See how bubbly you are when people treat you like trash because you're different. Well, I've got news for you and everybody else in this school. I'm _not_ different! I just can't walk. I'm the same person I was before I went in this chair. And if you can't see that, then I don't need you or anyone else. I can get by just fine on my own!"

With her words hanging like a smoke cloud over the cafeteria, Morgan turned around and wheeled out of the room, making a beeline for the front door. She didn't stop, fighting her way out through the front door and into the parking lot. Her eyes burned, her throat tightening up, anger and rage constricting around her heart and lungs, making it impossible to breathe. She continued wheeling herself down the street, pushing her arms to go faster.

She cut into an alley, taking a shortcut to her house. Her vision blurred by tears, she didn't see the speed bump until she was almost right on top of it. By that time, she was going too fast to stop. The bump was sharp, catching the front wheels and flipping the chair. Morgan cried out as the chair toppled over, sending her flying. She collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Morgan hissed in pain as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

She heard footsteps run up the alley before someone dropped to their knees beside her.

"You okay?"

The voice was male, midteens. Sixteen or seventeen maybe. Morgan fought to get her emotions under control. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'm fine. I don't need any help," she said.

"You sure?"

Morgan snapped her head upward. "I said I'm-"

She trailed off, eyes growing wide. The figure wore a long, dark trench coat and a large brimmed hat. However, in the shadow of the hat, she saw the unmistakable orange mask around his eyes. In the sunlight, she could now see the light green hue of his skin. Morgan's mouth started to part and he began to panic.

"Please don't scream," he begged. "I know I look freaky, but I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."

"What are you?" Morgan whispered.

"That's a really long story," he said.

Morgan swallowed thickly, pushing down the urge to scream. "Can I at least get a name?" she asked, plucking up her courage.

"Michelangelo," he replied. "But you can call me Mikey."

"Morgan. Nice to meet you."

"Like wise."

Morgan looked around. "So, were you following me?"

"I'm not a stalker, if that's what you mean," Michelangelo replied. "I was on a training run, saw you wipe out and thought you could use a hand."

Morgan frowned. "Training run? For what? The Anthrolympics?"

Michelangelo snickered. "That's a good one." He chuckled. "Anthrolympics. You're funny."

She shrugged. "I have my moments."

He held out his hand in a helping gesture. She stared at it. Three fingers. Two fingers and a thumb. She reached up and took his hand, inhaling deep and quick when he helped her to her feet. They stood for a moment, him holding her in his arms. Morgan slipped her hand behind his shoulder and felt a hard shell-like object on his back.

"Are you...a turtle?"

Michelangelo nodded. "Yeah. But, like I said, it's a long story."

"Maybe you could tell me sometime?"

"If you want."

"So, what kind of turtle are you?"

"Ninja."

Morgan blinked up at him. "I was asking what species, but...okay..."

"Oh." He laughed, embarrassed. "That I'm not sure on. I'll ask and get back to you."

"Is there someone a ninja turtle can ask without people freaking out?"

Michelangelo winked. "I have my sources."

Morgan found herself smiling, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "I'm sure you do."

He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess you'll be wanting to get home."

She nodded, smile fading. "Yeah. I best be on my way before someone comes looking for me."

Michelangelo helped her back into her chair after picking it up. He patted her shoulder and was just about to leave when she grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Would you bring me home? Please?"

Michelangelo smiled and nodded. "Sure thing. Afraid of wiping out again, huh?"

Morgan chuckled. "Something like that."

Michelangelo stepped around back and took the handle bars, pushing Morgan the rest of the way to her cozy little house. He parked her at the end of the ramp.

"This is where I have to leave you," he said. "I'm pushing it bringing you this far."

"I guess not very many people take your appearance well."

He shook his head. "Nope. People either scream and run away, or try to end me." He shrugged. "But it's nice when I meet someone who doesn't scream in my face and can accept me for what and who I am."

Morgan nodded in agreement. "I'm no one to judge. Especially when someone has it worse off than me. A least I can go out in the opening the daytime without hiding my true appearance."

Michelangelo gave her a respectful bow. "It was nice meeting you, Morgan. Maybe we can hang again, sometime."

"I'm free Friday."

He smiled and nodded. "Friday it is. But, it'll have to be after your folks are asleep. Can you stay awake that long?"

"I've pulled all-nighters cramming for tests. I'll be fine."

"Okay then. I'll see you Friday night."

"Thanks, Mikey."

"No problem. Anything I can do to help."

He waved as he turned and ran off, disappearing into the shadows of the houses. Morgan smiled as she wheeled her way up the ramp and into the house. She checked the calendar when she got inside. Tuesday. She sighed. Friday seemed so far away. She went into her room and sat at her desk, staring out the window. A small smile began creeping across her lips.

For the first time since ending up in the chair, the only person who treated her like a normal human being wasn't even human. She hoped he would tell her his origin story. She had a feeling it would make for an awesome book idea.

 _If someone were to write about it,_ she thought to herself.

* * *

 **A/N** : I am so, so sorry for leaving you all hanging. Personally I don't like it when writers leave a really good story and never finish, so why would I do that to my readers? As a lame excuse, I guess I felt as though no one was interested in this story anymore. Plus, I've been working a lot on original book ideas. Anyway, I hope this chapter made up for the long wait. And hopefully I'll be able to finish this story for you all.

Catch you on the flip side. Cheers.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one


End file.
